


Make Me Wait Forever

by casastella



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Canon Compliant, Shirabu exclusively dates older guys and Semi can't figure out why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casastella/pseuds/casastella
Summary: Semi never meant to tell the lie. It was something that slipped out from beneath his hold, unnerved by the way Shirabu stared, aloof and unfazed.Years later, Semi still suffers the consequences of the lie, watching his best friend date people who don't know Shirabu's favourite book or the way he likes his bento arranged or that he would cry while watching The Iron Giant, always.People who could never love Shirabu the way Semi does.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 288





	Make Me Wait Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning for mention of weed, though there's no substance use of any kind. There is also internalised homophobia from one of the side characters but I didn't tag it because it's very brief and he's not that relevant to the story. 
> 
> (Also in this, Semi plays wing spiker.)

When Semi was eight, he met Shirabu for the first time. His family had moved into the house next door that had been empty for a couple of years, which was forever when you were eight. Semi was six months older and had been forced to be friends with the quiet, strange kid with eyes that watched everything too closely.

“Hey, I think your house is haunted,” he’d said one time when Shirabu had stayed over after school because his parents weren’t home. He didn’t really think that, though he used to be unnerved by the house at night. Eight was a bit too old to still believe in ghosts, like Santa Claus, but he hoped Shirabu was young and gullible enough to be scared.

But he looked up from Semi’s Spiderman comic and said, “Ghosts aren’t real.”

Maybe that was the turning point from friends by circumstance to actual friends. Semi had insisted that he sometimes saw eerie glowing coming from where Shirabu’s room was now and just to prove that his house was perfectly normal, he invited Semi for a sleepover.

They were going to stay up all night, a first for both, and by the time midnight struck, Semi was a little scared. And he needed to pee. Badly. The juice he snuck from his house was a mistake.

“The toilet is down the hall,” Shirabu told him, safe from the comfort of his own bed. He wasn’t actually as uptight as he seemed, Semi had found out during the evening. He was eager to stay up without his parents’ knowledge, sneaking in two flashlights and his DS.

“I don’t need to go,” Semi hissed, fooling no one.

“My house isn’t haunted,” Shirabu repeated for the umpteenth time, which was a bit too many times for someone who didn’t think so. Plus, he didn’t sound so sure anymore. Midnight was the time of otherworldly beings, after all.

“I swear it is! Why else would it have taken so long for someone to buy it? The ghosts obviously scared them all off.”

“There aren’t any ghosts, Eita! I’ll come with you to the toilet.”

Semi suspected that he just didn’t want to be left alone in a room where a glowing something was apparently seen but he wasn’t going to point that out. He really needed to go.

So they crept out together, pretending they weren’t as afraid as they felt. But when an owl hooted outside, Semi found his hand wound tight in Shirabu’s, only letting go when he went into the bathroom.

They eventually fell asleep sometime around two in the morning and when they woke up, there was silent agreement to never do that again. The events of the night somehow also brought them closer than Semi would ever have expected, like some sort of ghost hunting veterans who battled through a particularly nasty case together.

*

Shirabu’s room is a mess of clothes and Semi, sitting on the bed, is covered in half of it. Shirabu unfolds a shirt from his closet, looks at it and then chucks it behind him. He then holds up another shirt, a pale blue button-up that he usually looks good in.

“This one?” he asks, glancing up.

Semi can’t understand it, this date that Shirabu has. He’s never put in so much effort to look good for anybody in his life but suddenly this random guy comes in on his motorbike and his entire wardrobe is being poured over Semi.

“Do you have to go?” he groans.

Shirabu glares. “What, so you can hook up with girls at random parties but I can’t date?”

“Hey, don’t turn this on me. You hook up with people too. The problem is every single guy you’ve ever gone after is older than you. You know how your parents feel about that.”

Shirabu glares even harder, which would’ve destroyed anyone without Semi’s expertise in handling this wild card. “Yeah, well, it’s not your job to parrot everything they don’t like about me.”

“Right, because that’s my purpose in life. It’s just this guy is like three years older than you and looks like an axe murderer. He’s probably the ugliest of everyone you’ve been with.”

Shirabu throws the shirt at Semi’s face. “Are you saying I have bad taste?”

“I’m just trying to make you see reason so I don’t have to come identify your body.”

Shirabu stares and Semi stares back and that lasts for a whole of five seconds before Shirabu throws a sock at him. Semi laughs and catches it, realising too late that it’s a worn sock and drops it like it burned him.

“And yeah, you have bad taste,” he adds and holds up his arms before Shirabu can throw anything else at him. “What about that guy who came over the other day? He’s not bad looking and he’s in your major, isn’t he?”

Shirabu rolls his eyes. “Akaashi has been with this crazy guy since high school. The dude worships him.”

Semi isn’t certain who worships who but, “I could get rid of the boyfriend so you can make a move on Akaashi, the only decent guy I’ve met through you so far.”

“I don’t go after friends or younger guys. He’s both so stop trying. I’m going on this date.”

Semi wants to point out how young Akaashi could be considering they’re in the same year but he gets stuck on the first part. _Friends._ That seems to be the root of all of Semi’s problems.

He sighs. “Fine. What’s the plan? Are you coming back tonight or…”

Shirabu shrugs. He’s always been a bit shameless about his hook-ups and it eats at Semi’s heart every time he comes home early in the morning or brings someone back. Semi never hears them but he usually needs to get out of the apartment on those nights, the air inside stifling him.

There is something he needs to tell Shirabu, something important. A secret he’s been keeping for years, a lie he shouldn’t have told. On those nights, he wants to swing the door open and scream it at him.

“It’s a first date so I don’t know,” Shirabu answers.

Semi clicks his tongue and throws the blue shirt back. “That’s never stopped you before. Just go with this one. It suits you and if it happens to get wrecked or something, it’s old enough that it doesn’t matter.”

Shirabu looks at it for a moment. “No, I like this shirt. I’ll wear the black one.”

His date comes to pick him up half an hour later on his monstrosity of a motorbike and Semi watches him go. He waits for Shirabu to come home but falls asleep on the couch alone.

*

When Semi was nine, he and Shirabu started playing volleyball. Shirabu wasn’t too keen at first but Semi needed someone to practice with so he made him join. Despite his reluctance, they made a formidable pair on the court. Shirabu came to like setting the ball because he was (and Semi told him) a control freak and Semi liked to spike because he was (in Shirabu’s words) an attention hog.

But it worked out well for both because their mediocre little neighbourhood club slowly improved and they even started to win against some school teams. They walked straight to the club together after school and practiced over a proper net until the rest arrived.

One time, they were put on opposite teams to switch things up. Semi’s setter wasn’t as good as Shirabu. His tosses were inconsistent, not that he could point that out exactly. He just knew that he didn’t like hitting these. Half of his spikes didn’t make it over the net. That was perhaps the moment he truly realised that he and Shirabu worked well together, despite picking bones with each other often.

A toss went up, a quick down the centre that Semi wasn’t ready for and the ball was falling too soon. He leapt and hit as hard as he could, hoping that’d compensate for a delayed spike. It seemed to do the trick because the ball flew just over the white tape of the net…

…right into Shirabu’s face.

He yelped and clutched his face in his hands and the coach was on him in an instant. When Shirabu pulled his hands away, they were red with blood and tears had welled in his eyes. Semi had never made someone cry before and it was a terrible feeling. He didn’t want Shirabu to hate him, not when he’d just realised how much he liked playing together.

Semi’s mum was called, because Shirabu’s parents didn’t get home until six. The entire drive home, they were both quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Semi started hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to hit you. Are you okay?”

Shirabu sniffed around the tissue against his nose. It’d stopped bleeding a while ago but he still held it there. “My nose isn’t broken.” A pause, and then he added, “Takeya sucks at setting. When we get home, you’re hitting my tosses.”

Semi gave a gap-toothed grin. A year ago, if someone told him he’d want this weird, rude brat as his friend this much, he’d never have believed them.

*

“Hey, hey, hey!” an owl hoots. “Semisemi!”

Semi regrets ever introducing Bokuto to Tendou. He thought they would be at each other’s throats but apparently Bokuto can befriend anyone. Semi supposes that it makes sense. They’re both insane.

“Can you be quiet please?” Semi mumbles into the crook of his elbow, leaning over the table.

Bokuto settles into the opposite side of the booth at their usual morning coffee run before the first lecture. He cocks his head, not unlike an actual owl. “What’s wrong? Did- Ooh! Did you get laid?”

“No.”

“So the problem is that you _didn’t_ get laid?”

“Bokuto, yesterday was Tuesday. I don’t mess around on weekdays.” Bokuto makes a face so Semi has to add, “Except that one time. We don’t talk about that.”

“Keiji and I mess around every day of the week,” Bokuto says proudly. “That’s the benefit of living with your boyfriend.”

Yes, well, not everyone had the divine privilege of living with people who are also their significant others. Besides, Semi still swears that Bokuto’s boyfriend is imaginary. Konoha, the third of their unlikely trio, insists otherwise even though he often voices his discombobulation on why someone like Keiji would date Bokuto. Speaking of…

“Where’s Konoha?”

“He slept through his alarm so he says he’s just going to sleep the entire morning.”

“I envy him.”

“So what happened anyway?” Bokuto asks, pouring packets of sugar into the coffee Semi got for him before he arrived.

Semi eyes the third packet Bokuto tears open but opts to not comment on it. “Just Shirabu. I can’t get him to stop dating creeps and his parents are counting on me to make him stop. I hate babysitting.”

Bokuto hums vaguely like he didn’t hear that at all, far too absorbed in stirring his drink. He always seems a little bit out of it but Bokuto does sometimes say wise things so Semi waits for it.

“You know, Keiji thinks you’re in love with him.” Except this time.

“I am not!” Semi is. He totally is and that’s sort of the problem here.

Bokuto looks up at his outburst and grins. “If you say so, Semisemi. But Keiji is never wrong about these things.”

“Well, tell _Keiji_ to stick it up his ass.” Bokuto gets an even bigger shit-eating grin so Semi has to dive in before damage can be done. “No. I don’t want to hear it. Just tell him to mind his own business.”

“I don’t think he’s right though,” Bokuto says as if that’s supposed to make it less embarrassing. “You’re more like a…mum to him than a boyfriend. You’re always taking care of him.”

“I’m not.” They both know it’s a lie but Semi feels the need to defend himself. “Shirabu just makes bad life choices and I’m the one stuck with him.”

Bokuto thinks really hard, squinting. “Weren’t you the one who microwaved food in tin-foil pack and Shirabu had to put out the fire?”

“I never said I wasn’t stupid! I’m just trying to get him to make him see that every single guy he’s dated were creeps who were only after one thing. They never work out anyway. This Mr I’m-so-cool-with-a-motorbike is no different.”

Bokuto cocks his head again but this one is different to before. This one usually follows with an unintentional blunt jab at feelings. “Maybe it’s Shirabu-kun who wants it.”

Semi stops and stares. It’s occurred to him, of course it has, but it’s easy to ignore your own words when you can stop them from forming. It’s much harder when someone so earnest like Bokuto is saying it.

It’s not like Shirabu sleeps around every other weekend, which is what’s happening in exaggerated scenarios in Semi’s head. Over the past two years of university, Shirabu has dated four guys, five including Mr Motorbike, and only occasionally hooks up if Semi drags him out to a party. But none of them know Shirabu’s favourite book or the way he likes his bento arranged or that he would cry while watching The Iron Giant, always. None of these guys seem to really care about him and Semi hates it so much.

He can’t stand it when he comes home to Shirabu sitting on the couch and watching My Neighbour Totoro because he broke up with his boyfriend after a couple months of dating or because he had a crappy night. Semi didn’t know how to comfort him because he might accidently say things like, “I would treat you so much better.”

So he throws Shirabu his phone and settles for things like, “Order pizza or something.”

But what’s worse is everything that comes before this point; Shirabu’s excitement before dates, the phone notifications Semi can’t help but glance at, the nights he’s not home and Semi secretly hoping things don’t work out. It’s made him a terrible best friend.

When he woke up that morning, Shirabu was sleeping on the couch, apparently returned from his date and sneaking in a nap before class. Semi tried not to think too much and draped a blanket over him before he left.

“Yeah,” Semi says absently. “Maybe it is him.”

*

When Semi was thirteen, he was in his second year of junior high and Shirabu was in his first. The most disappointing thing wasn’t that they were in different years but it was that they went to different schools now, with different volleyball teams. While Semi went to a local school, Shirabu had gotten into an academically better one. They saw each other less often and Shirabu had started to stay at his home alone rather than ‘invade Semi’s house’ so Semi took it upon himself to invade _his_ house.

One evening, Semi decided to wait at the train station for him so they could walk home together. It wasn’t a special occasion and after fifteen minutes of waiting, he got bored and thought to just go home as usual. But the train arrived as he stood and in the distance, he saw Shirabu step off. He was small and he kept his head down, which was unusual and he stopped as soon as he saw Semi there.

Shirabu’s lip was crusted with blood and the skin was bruised blue around it.

“What the fuck,” Semi said. “Who did that?”

Shirabu resumed walking, pushing past Semi who followed furiously. “Shirabu,” he warned. They’d grown out of using first names a while ago.

“No one. I tripped and fell into the pole at practice.”

“You don’t have practice today. Don’t lie to me. I know what a punch looks like.”

Shirabu ignored him and all but stomped out of the station, glaring at the pavement darkly.

Semi grabbed his arm to stop him. “Shirabu.”

“Fine, I got punched, okay?” he growled, yanking his arm back. “It was my fault so let it go already.”

“Like hell. Tell me what happened.”

Shirabu cast his eyes away and glared at something on the other side of the street. Semi waited patiently. Shirabu was a stubborn brat when he wanted to be but Semi had learnt that if he waited long enough, he always came round.

As expected, Shirabu finally sighed. “I kissed someone and he punched me.”

“Like, was it a dare or something?”

“No… He’s a second year from the team and we’ve been…hanging out sometimes. He kissed me last week and I thought it was okay if I kissed him today so I did but apparently it wasn’t okay in front of his friends. So he punched me and told me to fuck off. There. Are you happy now?”

“No, I’m confused. Why would you kiss him?”

Shirabu swallowed, rocking back and forth on his heels a little before he mumbled, “Because I like him. I mean, I think I like him.”

“But he’s an asshole!”

“Yeah, I know that now!”

“Tell me you punched him back.”

“I kicked him in the shin.”

“Good.”

They started walking again. Semi had a question and Shirabu knew he had a question. But he waited until they were out of the busy area of town to ask.

“So you like boys?”

Shirabu nodded slowly. “I think so.”

“Am I the first person you’ve told?”

“Aside from that guy, yeah.”

“Good. If anyone else gives you shit, I’ll punch them. Got it?”

Shirabu’s swollen lip twitched into something that tried not to be a smile but the relief in his eyes spoke for itself. “Let’s just go home and play volleyball.”

*

When Semi gets back home, Shirabu is cooking, wearing one of Semi’s sweatpants. His T-shirt is forever stained blue from a freak lab accident in his first year and Semi’s been telling him to throw it out for so long but he’s stubborn about the strangest things sometimes.

“Good to see you’re up,” Semi says, taking off his shoes by the door. “How was the date?”

“Not bad,” he replies without looking back. “Do you actually want to hear about it?”

“No but tell me anyway.”

Shirabu scoops the omelette he’s frying – it smells mouth-watering – into a plate and Semi takes the pause in conversation to sit at the kitchen isle. Shirabu starts to recall how he went to a cat-themed restaurant in the city and then drove around before he ended up back at his date’s place.

“We didn’t do anything,” he says with a pointed look. “And it was his idea to take it slow.”

Semi rolls his eyes. “So he’s a gentleman on the first date. All right. Will there be a second?”

He shrugs and slides the plate over to Semi, sticking a fork in. It’s seafood omelette, Semi’s favourite.

“What’s this for?” he asks.

“I felt like being nice. If you don’t want it, give it back.”

Semi slaps his hand away and pulls the plate closer. “Are you and biker dude like a thing now?”

“I don’t know, Semi,” Shirabu says in exasperation. “I went on one date with the guy. We’re not suddenly going to adopt children. Get off my case.”

“I’m just asking. Why are you being so defensive?”

“Why are you always sticking your nose in my business? Last time I checked, my love life has nothing to do with you.”

Shirabu is definitely more pissy than usual and Semi breathes in and out slowly to not snap back. “Did something happen?” he asks carefully. “Did he do something?”

“No, it’s not him. Your goddamned girlfriend came by again and demanded to see you.”

“My girl- Oh. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I don’t think she got the memo.”

Semi definitely made a mistake at that one party. He’d seen Shirabu disappear somewhere with a guy and he was so angry and next thing he knew, he was in his bed with a girl. Semi doesn’t usually do one-night-stands and for good reason.

Shirabu pinches the bridge of his nose. “At least the people I sleep with aren’t clingy psychopaths. _You_ need to sort this out because if she shows up here again, I will kick her down the stairs.”

He makes a valid point but he’s also more pissed off than usual.

“Are you sure that’s the only thing?” Bokuto’s words from earlier this morning comes back to him. “Are you frustrated because you didn’t get laid?”

Shirabu looks around the kitchen like’s searching for something to smack him with but settles on glaring instead. “Just make sure I don’t have to see her again.”

And then he’s stalking off towards his room. Semi so badly wants him to be jealous. He wants Shirabu’s heart to burn at the thought of him and someone else, the way his own heart burns as he watches Shirabu with others. But in the eight years since Shirabu came out to him, not once has he expressed any sort of more-than-platonic feelings towards Semi. Not even a compliment on his looks, which he knows are at least above average.

But jealousy isn’t what lies beneath Shirabu’s annoyance. It’s a disdain for Semi’s hypocrisy. They’ve had more than a few arguments regarding this in the past and Semi has backed off considerably, not wanting to ruin their friendship.

Semi looks at the omelette and leaves it there, trudging to Shirabu’s room. He knocks on the closed door and says, “Hey. Sorry I’ve been an ass about the guy you’re seeing. I’ll stop.”

Shirabu takes only a moment to reply, which means he’s not really upset. “It’s fine.”

Across the hall is Semi’s room with the door wide open, laundry basket overflowing. “I’m gonna shower and then head down to the laundromat. If you need anything washed, chuck it in my basket.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

And the conversation is over.

*

When Semi was sixteen, he and Shirabu were finally at the same school again; Shiratorizawa Academy. Despite the past four years apart, they’d grown closer than expected. With his secret out, Shirabu had once again spent most of his time at Semi’s place, more because his parents had started going on business trips more often and he was left with days’ worth of packed food.

Semi’s parents were not having that so now Shirabu had become their second son.

That meant more time lying side by side on Semi’s bed, speakers playing faint music while Shirabu read and Semi tossed a ball up and down. There had been a brief moment in time when Shirabu stopped sitting on the bed when he came over and Semi was slow to put things together. But they’d long gotten over that phase.

Semi had been buzzing all evening, barely able to keep a dopey grin off his face. He hadn’t told Shirabu about what happened yet and he felt like he should wait to let people know but Shirabu got to him first.

“Why are you so happy today?”

Semi caught the ball. He hesitated for all of one second before he turned to Shirabu and said, “Someone confessed to me today.”

“So? Girls come up to you all the time.”

“Yes but it’s Haruka-chan this time.”

“Oh,” Shirabu said, blinking once. “And you said yes?”

Semi nodded, suddenly a little less excited than he was before. He didn’t expect Shirabu to jump with joy for him but he didn’t expect this utter lack of enthusiasm either.

“That’s great,” Shirabu said. “I’m happy for you.”

“Are you really?”

Shirabu nodded. “Sorry, I’m just upset. I didn’t mean to rain on your parade.”

Semi was a bit petty at times but he should’ve known better than to force the news on Shirabu at a time like this and expect him to be happy. Shirabu’s parents had left again that evening, which had put him in a mood that Semi failed to notice.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Semi apologised and he truly meant it. Any other time, he would’ve been annoyed but never when it came to this.

Teenage years had created a small gap between Semi and his parents but he couldn’t imagine them being absent the way Shirabu’s were; gone for weeks, back for days. He wanted to talk about Haruka – the prettiest girl in his year – but he supposed there was time for that after they’d actually gone on a date.

They went back to what they were doing before; Shirabu reading, Semi tossing, the air tense. Semi felt a storm coming, words gathering beneath their skin like dark, dense clouds. It was a sort of knowing without really knowing, a product of living with someone for so long that feelings became shared and Semi wasn’t sure who’d bring the rain.

This time, it was Shirabu. “I hate it,” he said.

Semi stopped tossing. “I know.”

“They’re never around and yet they expect me to be a good son, get good grades and not be a fuck-up.”

“But you are all of those though.”

“Yeah but sometimes I want to screw up my tests on purpose or eat weed.”

Semi sniggered. “You don’t ‘eat’ weed.”

“Fuck off.”

“Where are you even going get weed?”

Shirabu glared very hard so Semi zipped his mouth and gestured for him to continue. Shirabu did, pouring out all the things he didn’t like about his parents’ work and their obsession with it. The words were bitter and harsh because he wasn’t one to hold back. But beneath all that, Semi heard the loneliness and the yearning for parents who were never really around anymore. Had never really been around.

Shirabu was right to feel all those. His parents worked hard to give him the best and failed to realise that none of those were what he wanted. They weren’t bad people, just misguided in their love and none of them were very good with their words to talk to each other.

“They think there’s something going on between me and Shirogane-san,” Shirabu said. “I mention him once at dinner because, you know, he’s the fucking captain, and suddenly they’re all like, ‘We don’t want you being corrupted by older boys.’ You’re older than me. Why don’t they say anything about that?”

“Because that’s completely different.”

“I’m in your bed and the door is closed. Literally anything could be happening right now.”

For the first time in his life, Semi thought, _It could be_. But the very idea was weird. He’d known Shirabu forever and Semi wasn’t even into boys. Plus, he had a girlfriend now. Sort of. He said, “You know your parents are just looking out for you. They trust me to look after you too.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes so hard it disappeared into his skull for a second. “Right,” he said sarcastically. “Thank you, _Semi-san._ ”

“Oi. Don’t add the ‘san’ just to make fun of me.”

“You wanted it.”

Okay, it was true that Semi told him to add that at school since he was a year above but not if Shirabu was going to use that ironically. It wasn’t even an important topic of debate right now. “Look, I know it’s pretty crap that you’re stuck at my house all the time and you don’t get to see them. But think of it this way; at least you get the freedom.”

Shirabu stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the ceiling. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips pressed thin, all the signs of his emotions he’d let show on his face. Semi wondered if his parents’ absence was also tearing at their friendship. He must see Semi with his family and be at least a little envious of that. That wasn’t something Semi knew how to fix. So for the time being, he had to try to keep Shirabu from feeling bitter towards him.

Semi sat up and tickled his sides and abdomen, earning a burst of laughter and swearing and hands pushing and feet kicking. But Semi was stronger and he didn’t stop until tears streaked down Shirabu’s face, no longer able to fight back. When they were both exhausted from the struggle, he lied back down, facing a curled up Shirabu who furiously wiped his face.

He expected Shirabu to kick him off the bed or something equally vengeful but he just stared and Semi stared back. Shirabu had pretty eyes the colour of caramel and the summer sun had dusted faint freckles on his cheeks.

*

Shirabu goes on more dates. Sometimes he sleeps at his boyfriend’s place or the boyfriend comes over and Semi locks himself in his room. He tells himself that it’s fine if he doesn’t have to see them. He’s done this before.

Sometimes he goes out at night and studies at the twenty-four-hour diner down the street until about one in the morning. If Shirabu notices him acting weird, he doesn’t say it and probably chalks it up to Semi’s dislike of his boyfriend.

But Semi aches terribly. He wants to be the one holding Shirabu’s hand, the one to kiss him goodnight and good morning and he wants to make Shirabu smile like that, all moonstruck and beautiful. Semi hates that it looks like this relationship might actually work out and guilt tears at him.

Between both their classes and Shirabu spending less time at home in general, they don’t get to talk much. He misses him. He misses their banter around the house, their lazy evenings watching bad reality TV shows and Shirabu’s omelettes.

“Your boyfriend is right,” Semi tells Bokuto one morning when Konoha is there too.

“Well, yeah,” Bokuto says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Semi is an idiot for only just realising it. Then, “What’s he right about again?”

“I’m in love with Shirabu.”

“Called it,” Konoha says smugly, holding out a hand to Bokuto. “No offense but I figured that the first time I saw you two together.”

Bokuto grumbles before slapping two hundred yen into the hand. “Shirabu-kun is still dating that guy, isn’t he?”

Semi watches Konoha happily pocket the money, not wanting to believe that they bet on his love life but why wouldn’t they? In the end, he just shakes it head. “Seems like they’re going well, yeah. I just don’t understand what he sees in him. The dude’s hair is all spikes and not in a good way and his bike wakes up the entire neighbourhood! Why couldn’t it have been someone nice and calm like that Akaashi guy or something?”

Both Konoha and Bokuto go silent, looking at him weirdly.

“What?”

Konoha asks, “Do you mean Akaashi Keiji?”

_Keiji?_ “I don’t know his first name. Why?”

“Because,” Bokuto answers, “Akaashi Keiji is mine.”

Suddenly a lot of things make sense, like those random times Bokuto seemed to know more than Semi thought he’d shared. Konoha laughs at him for a good long while and Bokuto tells Semi to tell Shirabu to keep his hands off Akaashi. Semi reassures him that with Shirabu’s current relationship status and general philosophy on dating, that is not a problem at all.

It’s only a problem for Semi.

When he gets back to the apartment that evening, Shirabu and his boyfriend are on the couch, eating each other’s faces. They pull away when Semi opens the door but the dude is still leaning over Shirabu with no apparently intention to move. Semi wants to shut the door again and just run far away from all this. But he shakes himself out of the stupor and nods at them in greeting before shuffling off to his room.

There, he flops onto the bed, resisting the urge to scream into his sheets. They should at least have the decency to not be in the living room when Semi’s about to come home, right? It’s not even because of Semi’s feelings; it’s common curtesy, an unspoken rule in shared housing. Semi has _never_ brought a partner home and made out in front of Shirabu like that. He’s always careful about these things.

This is all so messed up.

There’s a knock on his door and it slowly opens. Semi lifts his head to see Shirabu in the doorway. He wonders if the boyfriend knows whose sweatpants Shirabu is wearing, pooling at his ankles a little.

“You okay?”

Semi waves him off. “Long day. Go back to sucking face or whatever.”

Shirabu’s face darkens. “Look, I’m sorry you had to see that but don’t be an ass. You straight up glared at him.”

Semi breathes in. Then out. He repeats it. “Can we not do this right now, Shirabu?”

“Fine, _Semi-san._ ”

He slams the door and Semi’s fists shake against the pillow.

*

When Semi was seventeen, he started to figure himself out. It began with watching the way his teammates spiked and how enticing their forms were in mid-air. Then it was noticing the little things in the changerooms that he never paid attention to before, like Wakatoshi’s buff arms and Hayato’s surprisingly nice, solid abs and Shirabu’s pretty, delicate collarbones. It ended with Semi readily accepting that he wasn’t as straight as he thought he was.

The one thing he couldn’t yet accept was his growing feelings for his best friend.

They were in Semi’s living room, studying, and Semi’s knee kept touching Shirabu’s. It had never been an issue before but it was now, as many things had become. Changerooms gave Semi too clear a view of Shirabu’s shirtless body and if that wasn’t bad enough with all of their teammates around, it was worse when Shirabu was at his house and he changed in Semi’s room casually, as he’d always done.

Semi fidgeted so often that Shirabu thought to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were freaking out about what you wanted to do after high school earlier. Thought you might still be panicking.”

“Oh, right. No, I’m still panicking about that. Not everyone has stellar grades like you and they actually need to freak out about their future. What will you do?”

He was talking way too much.

“Maybe literature. I don’t know. I still have a year left.”

“Your parents want you to do med, right?”

“Probably. They’re never around long enough to sit down and tell me.”

And then they were silent. Semi tried to go back to history homework but their knees were touching again. When Shirabu shifted or scratched his knee, his hand brushed against the skin of Semi’s thighs and he had to resist the urge to pull away, lest it raised Shirabu’s suspicions.

He hadn’t told him what he’d figured out yet. Semi wasn’t sure why he hadn’t because it seemed like a profound discovery worth sharing with his closest friend, who would be the last person to judge. Whom he also might be crushing on. Semi took a deep, shaky breath.

“Shirabu, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How did you know that you liked boys?”

Shirabu looked at him carefully, picking apart everything on his face. Semi couldn’t imagine what he saw there. “I think I told you back in middle school. The guy who kissed me before punching me the next week.”

“So he kissed you and you realised for certain that you liked him?”

“Yeah, I guess. Why are you asking me this out of nowhere?”

“No reason. I’m just wondering.”

Shirabu twisted so he was fully facing Semi, narrowing his eyes. “Eita… Do you think you…”

Semi pursed his lips and glanced at the wall between the living room and the kitchen where his mum was. He lowered his voice. “I’m not sure.” Lie. “I like girls but I think I might also… I’m not sure,” he repeated. “I mean, sometimes I think some guys are good looking but I don’t- I don’t know if I want to, you know.”

“Kiss them?”

Semi blushed. “Something like that.”

It wasn’t that he’d never kissed anyone before. He’d had a girlfriend with whom he very much kissed and he wasn’t shy about people knowing. But talking to Shirabu about kissing _boys_ was a whole other thing.

“Have you tried?”

Semi balked at the question and hissed, “Of course not. I can’t just ask a random guy to kiss me so that I can figure out if I’m straight or not.”

Shirabu said nothing for a moment, his eyes flickering down to Semi’s lips and that one glance lit his body on fire. “You can try kissing me.”

“ _What?_ But kissing you would be like…” A fantasy made reality. “It won’t be a fair test.”

Shirabu shrugged. “All right. Good luck finding someone else to test on without getting punched.”

Semi wanted to kiss him and in his recent dreams, he had. Actually, his subconsciousness had taken it further than Shirabu’s lips. In his dreams, he’d traced those delicate collarbones with his own lips, brushing the little freckles on his shoulders and his hands were in places Semi had never thought to put before.

But Shirabu didn’t seem to care about all that. He’d offered up a kiss as easily as he would’ve offered up a piece of fry he’d dropped on the ground, like it couldn’t have mattered less and Semi was the starving fool who’d claw at anything he could get.

And yet.

“Fine. Just- Fine. Kiss me.”

He glanced at the wall one more time, heard his mum’s humming and clatter of pans and the exhaust fan whirring. Then he pressed his mouth to Shirabu’s. And there it was, the thing Semi had been pining for and he had it now and he was terrified. He dared not let loose his want for fear of Shirabu finding out exactly how strong it was. But Shirabu’s lips were so much softer than in his dreams and he smelled so damned nice.

When Shirabu pressed firmer, Semi all but choked, gripping the back of the couch. He wanted the taste of Shirabu’s mouth ingrained so deep that he’d never forget, and the feel of that freckled skin beneath his hands, in places they’d wandered in his dreams and more. Semi gripped the couch tighter, fingers aching.

All too soon, Shirabu was pulling away with a frown. “Do you always kiss like this?”

It took Semi a moment to realise that was a question, head spinning, unable to look away from the perfect arch of Shirabu’s lips. “Like what?”

“Like a corpse. You’re not even doing anything.”

That snapped him out. Semi grabbed a nearby cushion and smacked it at Shirabu’s face. “I’m just not used to this!”

A roll of his eyes. “Are you any more sure at least?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Semi replied and he could’ve stopped there. He didn’t have to give a definitive answer if he didn’t feel ready. So he wasn’t sure why he added, “I was wrong. I don’t like boys like that.”

Maybe he was trying to stop his heart from raging, his hands from pulling Shirabu in again and showing him exactly what he could do. Maybe he didn’t want Shirabu to know the dreams he’d been having about him or maybe he just couldn’t handle the complete apathy on Shirabu’s face like that kiss didn’t ignite anything in him the way it did to Semi.

Shirabu just shrugged. “Whatever. But don’t think you have any right to judge people I like just because you theoretically know when a guy is good looking.”

Semi laughed to cover up the hurt. “Date good looking guys and I won’t judge.”

*

Shirabu’s boyfriend is apparently the epitome of perfection. He didn’t mind that Semi murder-glared at him and even went as far as apologising for being indecent in the living room. He keeps inviting Semi to watch movies with them and when he brings food over, he has enough for Semi too. Semi, in turn, tries to be civilised too but more for Shirabu’s sake. This is perhaps the one relationship Shirabu actually looks happy to be in and Semi wouldn’t ruin that for him, no matter how much it hurts.

But one evening when Semi comes home, they seem to be in a tense situation. Shirabu’s eyebrows are furrowed though the boyfriend doesn’t seem to be in that much of a dilemma.

Semi treads carefully. “Is everything okay here?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boyfriend says, smiling easily. “I’m just trying to convince Kenjirou to come to a party.”

‘Kenjirou’ isn’t a fan of parties but Semi kind of needs the place to himself for a bit today. Too much on his mind to unload. So he suggests, “Why don’t you go? You’ve already finished that assignment you stressed so much over. Go and relax.”

Shirabu perks a little bit but it would be impossible to tell if Semi hasn’t known him forever. “Then you should come too.”

“You should!” the boyfriend echoes and Semi declines and Shirabu insists and to make a long story short, Semi third wheels. He just really needs the alcohol.

They arrive at a shared house later that evening – the boyfriend’s place apparently – and it’s surprisingly more tame than other parties Semi gets invited to. Sure, there’s still music and sweaty bodies and alcohol involved but the house isn’t overpacked, no one’s passed out and no one’s vomited.

Shirabu wears the blue shirt he dismissed for his first date. Semi doesn’t even want to ask if his boyfriend recommended wearing it because at this point, he’s not sure if he can hate the guy anymore. He’s an all-round nice person despite his rugged appearance, if a little overly excitable. He’s always aware of not making Semi uncomfortable while also paying Shirabu the attention he deserves.

And now, he’s dutifully introducing Semi to his friends to make him feel less alien and Semi really just wants to make a beeline for the punch bowl. He’s not always like this. He does enjoy his fair share of parties and mingling with people but this just isn’t doing it for him.

He finally manages to excuse himself after being bombarded with a dozen names and faces. The punch, he is disappointed to find, has very little alcohol in it. People walk by, chatting among themselves as they refill their cups and a few familiar people wave at him, who has made a home for himself by the punch table.

Shirabu and his boyfriend has disappeared from this room but Semi doesn’t care. His aim is to get tipsy and then he’ll leave. He politely turns down all the offers he gets for a dance and chooses to watch instead. Everything sort of feels a bit juvenile here. No one is gyrating or humping one another, no suspicious little bags are being passed around and the only loud guy is probably the DJ who announces song requests occasionally as he controls the flashing lights.

It is nice but Semi is wondering exactly what kind of college party this is when another girl comes up to him. But unlike everyone else before, he knows this girl.

“Semi-kun,” she says with a smile. “I’m so glad I finally caught you.”

He has no idea what her name is. “Uh. Hi.”

The smile falters a little. “Do you remember me?”

Yes? No? What’s the correct answer? “Um, I do but, uh.”

She sighs, a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank goodness or otherwise this would be very awkward. I really need to talk to you about something from last time we met.” In Semi’s bed. “I actually came over a few times but you weren’t there and your flatmate was quite rude when I asked for your number to contact you directly.”

It is perhaps a mistake that Semi hasn’t sorted this out when he told Shirabu he would. He’s honestly forgotten about this and now that this meeting isn’t on _his_ terms, he feels like he can’t run from it. “Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, he’s a bit… Sorry about him. But look, I’m really sorry but I’m not interested in doing it again.”

She blinks in surprise, seemingly confused for a moment before blushing deeply. “No! No, it’s not anything like that! Last time I was there, I forgot my watch. I just wanted to ask for it back because it’s a gift from my sister.”

And then Semi feels like a massive jerk. He apologises profusely on the spot and all the way back to the apartment, sending a quick text to Shirabu to let him know he’s leaving.

The apartment is a little messy; a few dishes in the sink, hoodie thrown over the back of the couch, books and magazines lying around. He can’t remember state of the apartment the last time Nanami, which is her name, was here but he’s embarrassed now as he looks at his overflowing laundry basket.

He pretends the Mount Vesuvius of dirty laundry isn’t there as he searches under his bed and indeed comes out with a gold, expensive looking watch that’s fallen between the bed and the dresser.

“I’m very sorry to trouble you like this,” Nanami says as she slips her shoes on, ready to leave, declining Semi’s offer for a drink.

“And I’m really sorry about assuming you wanted something else.”

Nanami blushes again, hiding behind a curtain of black hair. “I’d never had a casual partner like that because I’m always too shy to approach people but Semi-kun really brought something out of me. It mortifies me when I think about it.”

Semi chuckles and, now that the air is clear between them, he feels comfortable adding, “You shouldn’t be mortified. I think self-confidence is always a good thing to have. And it’s sexy too.”

Nanami laughs. “Thank you, Semi-kun. I’ll see you around.”

Then she opens the door, only to find Shirabu standing on the other side, keys out. Nanami startles before she bows and slips past him, waving at Semi. He waves back as Shirabu pushes in, slamming the door shut.

Semi feels a storm coming.

Not tonight. He can’t handle this tonight.

Shirabu hangs the keys on the hook, jangling loudly. “I thought you finished things with her.”

“I did.”

Shirabu watches him closely. “So why did you leave with her? Why was she even here?”

“She just wanted her watch back, which-” Semi stops himself. _Not tonight._ He starts walking to his room. “Why are you back so early? I thought you would’ve stayed the night.”

“We broke up.”

Semi stops. And turns. “What? Why?”

“What does it matter? You got what you wanted.”

_Not tonight._ “Shirabu, that’s not true,” Semi says steadily, trying to keep everything from slipping out of control all at once. “I wanted someone who’d treat you right because, let’s be honest here, all your past relationships ended in wrecks.”

Shirabu shakes his head, eyes glistening. “That’s your problem, Semi. You think I’m so perfect that every time my relationship doesn’t work out, you think it’s other guy breaking up with me. It’s not and it has never been.”

Shirabu is almost crying and Semi doesn’t know why. A thread is slipping out of his grasp. He can’t do this tonight. “All right,” he says. “So you broke up with them and I’m guessing it’s not because you realise they weren’t right for you.”

“I _know_ they weren’t,” Shirabu hisses. “I’ve always known.”

The storm is here, right in their living room and it’s blowing away all of Semi’s efforts to keep things together.

“Then why date any of them?” He sounds far too bitter and too hurt but he’s letting go of everything now.

“Because they were the farthest thing from the one person I want.”

Shirabu rocks a little on his heels, unsteady but he’s so angry. Semi wants to keep asking questions he’s always held back but he doesn’t want to know the answers. So he does what he’s always done. He waits.

Shirabu rolls his hands into fists as if he might start hitting Semi or himself. “I date those guys because I’m tired of wanting you like this, someone who kissed me once and decided he’ll never love me like I love you. I just want to be over you but you’re here all the fucking time and I can’t help compare them to you and it’s like that punch all over again because every single time, I realise that I can’t have you.”

Semi can’t say anything back because he doesn’t understand. None of this makes sense. His mind takes him back to that time in his living room, their lips locked and Shirabu called him a corpse and Semi can’t forget any of it but the one thing he remembers most is wanting. He remembers it because that feeling still hasn’t left and sometimes it washes over him so hard that he drowns.

“It was you,” he finds himself saying, voice rising. “ _You_ are the one who kissed me like I was just another guy! You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you again and you looked like you didn’t even care because you never look like you care.”

“Of course I care, you asshole!” Shirabu shouts. “I care so much that every time I see you with someone, it hurts but you drag me out and I can never so no to you. I couldn’t say no when you wanted to live together and I can’t throw away that shirt you gave me even when it’s stained beyond help. I make you seafood omelette even though I’ve developed allergies and my hand itches every fucking time. Did you know about that, Eita?”

Semi stops speaking, stunned. He hasn’t even noticed.

“Yeah,” Shirabu mutters. He rolls his lip between his teeth, breathing in heavily to calm himself. “I never planned to tell you any of this but I can’t take it anymore.”

“But why?”

“It’s been five years. That’s a long time chasing after some kind of replacement and I can’t do this anymore.”

Semi buries his face in his hands and rubs thoroughly, fingers clawing at his hair. This is such a mess now and Semi’s already said too much to stop. “I lied when I said I didn’t like guys. I do. Specifically, I liked you and I panicked because that kiss seemed to have affected me way more than it affected you. I was an idiot.”

Shirabu scoffs. “Clearly.”

Semi sighs. This is not how he wanted his evening to go. His agenda didn’t have a fight with Shirabu on it and now he’s not equipped to handle any of the stuff that’s come out. If only he hadn’t lied that day, this volcano wouldn’t have stewed for years, only to erupt the way it has now. But then- “Hey, you said I kissed like a corpse!”

“Well, you did.”

“So what are you saying now? That you liked kissing me?”

“I liked all of it,” Shirabu answers, quiet but unwavering. “I liked tossing to you and sleeping next to you and I liked it when you got concerned about me. Fuck, I didn’t even mind it when you tickled me to death. But I’ve always wanted more. I want everything and it kills me.”

“And you couldn’t tell me because I said I’m not into boys.”

“You prick,” Shirabu says.

Semi is a prick, isn’t he? He crosses the room and pulls Shirabu into his arms, finding very little resistance. “Kenjirou, I am so sorry. Holy shit. I hurt you for _years_.”

Shirabu’s hands come to rest on Semi’s back, clutching his shirt, and he presses his face into Semi’s shoulder. “Yeah, you did. And I must’ve hurt you too.”

“I won’t lie. It was painful but it only led to that because of me so I’ll take responsibility.”

Shirabu tightens his hold and Semi responds in kind, realising exactly how long it’s been since he held Shirabu like this. The last time must’ve been Semi’s graduation, almost three years ago. They’d gotten home and Shirabu crossed Semi’s bedroom without a word, wrapping his arms around him. Semi remembers how it felt, like a wave slowly washing away his doubts about everything; the future, college and how their friendship could survive. He remembers standing there for maybe ten minutes, fifteen, not wanting to let go.

Now Semi does what he didn’t before. He kisses Shirabu’s temple, lightly at first. As Shirabu’s clutch tightens, he kisses more firmly because he’s allowed to do this. He’s always been allowed to do this. He was just too stupid to.

“I love you,” he says. Those three simple words have weighed heavily on him for so many years and saying them is freeing.

So he says it again and again and again until Shirabu tells him to shut up, freckles disappearing beneath a deep blush. Semi says it one more time. Shirabu covers Semi’s mouth and buries his face in his chest with a small laugh.

“I think you’re right,” he says. “I do have bad taste in men.”

Semi thinks he agrees.

The storm has swept through the room and in its wake, Semi stands holding Shirabu for a long time. There’s still clean up to do, air to clear and this is only the beginning of them making up for years’ worth of pain they’ve brought each other but it’s okay. From a forced friendship, Semi has come out with someone he can’t imagine life without and he’d try his damned hardest to keep him there.

When Semi is twenty-one, his best friend finally becomes his boyfriend.

**Author's Note:**

> I have come to love SemiShira a lot more than I planned to and I noticed an alarming shortage of childhood friend fics so I took it upon myself to expand the list. I'm not sure how the Fukurodani trio made it into this but they did. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. <3 All your comments and kudos mean the world to me. 
> 
> If anyone wants to scream at me about these two or Haikyu in general, my twitter is [@casastella_](https://twitter.com/casastella_).


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